Unbroken
by Elphie Marky
Summary: As his relationship with Mimi deteriorates, Roger realizes he doesn't want the broken family he came from. He lashes out at Mark, not knowing his family isn't as perfect as it seems. RogerMimi
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote this for a Speed Challenge at rent100. It was really long, so I broke it up into smaller chapters.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Chapter One**

"Mimi, what's this?" Roger held up a small plastic bag full of white powder. He had been waiting for her at her loft since last night. He wasn't expecting her to be out all night.

Mimi looked at him, her long, black curls were knotty and hanging in her face. Her clothes were a bit torn. She hadn't gotten home until this morning, claiming to have worked an extra shift at the club. Her hand reached for the bag as he answered, "It's nothing, Roger, I just…"

"Just what?" he held his arm high, out of her reach. "Just thought you could slip into your old habits under my nose? Why not, you defeated death once, why not push your luck and try again. You're only invincible on the high, not for the consequences."

She pushed a lock of hair out her eyes. "No, Rog, you just don't get it. You don't know what…"

"Oh I don't know what the addiction is? What the high is like? How the fuck do you think I got the way I am?"

Mimi cringed. She had lied when she said she was pulling a double shift. She had gone out with some girls from the club and shot up. The high and the alcohol had gotten to her head, pushing April out of her mind. Sure, she didn't know April, but she knew what April did to Roger. Roger didn't like talking about her. Sometimes Mimi thought that he loved April more than he loved her. "Roger, I'm sorry, I forgot. I had a rough day at work."

"Yeah, your work is really hard," he snapped. He tossed the stash at her feet. "Talk to me when you want to be honest with me."

"Roger, wait," she stumbled after him, but the door slammed before she got out an apology.

--

"What's your problem?" Mark looked up from his camera when Roger stormed into the loft.

Roger let out an incoherent mumble as he plopped on the couch. All Mark got was "Mimi" and "using again."

"Mimi's using again?"

"I think so," Roger looked at his best friend, fear dancing in his green eyes. "I found a stash in her room. She got back really late, and I can tell she got high or was drinking."

"Did you fight again?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded. "We've fought like twenty-four times this week alone. I just don't get her anymore."

"I'm sorry, Rog," Mark replied. Sympathy really wasn't in his voice. It was more empathetic than anything.

Roger picked up on it. "What do you know?"

Mark looked up, hurt. "More than you think."

"Sure," Roger nodded sarcastically. "You know exactly what it's like to grow up without a dad, and have a mom who could care less about you. You barely graduated from high school and got kicked out on your ass when you were eighteen." Roger's eyes had gone from faded green to a stony emerald as the sarcasm poured from his vocal chords. "You have no idea Mark. You had the ideal American family. Your mom packed your lunch everyday, your dad played catch, your sister and you got along perfectly. And to top it all off, you had a cute, little kitty and a white picket fence in the suburbs. Tell me Mark, what's it like to fly on an airplane to Disney World at age nine and meet Mickey Mouse? I'm dying to know."

"I was eleven," Mark corrected. Mickey Mouse actually scared him more than the three hour flight.

Roger rolled his eyes. "You don't know how lucky you are. I've never been on an airplane. I don't think I've gone past fucking Delaware. Your mom calls every four seconds to make sure her baby isn't starving. Mine called once last Christmas to make sure I wasn't dead and she didn't have to pay for my funeral. She didn't actually care how I was."

"That's not why my mom called the other day," Mark sniffed. "That's why I wasn't home yesterday."

"Aw, how sweet," Roger mocked, "a Cohen family get-together. You just don't get it, Mark."

"No, Roger, _you_ don't get it," Mark stood up and headed for his room. He stood at the door, facing Roger. "I don't even want to talk about it. I thought I could tell you, but I guess not. Your problems are so much worse, you wouldn't care. Go wallow in self pity. Just leave me out of it."

Roger just sat there, baffled. Mark had never snapped like that. But wasn't he right? Weren't Roger's problems worse? After all, Mark wasn't dying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rent.

**Note:** Italics are flashbacks.

**Chapter 2**

Mark collapsed on his bed, his camera held tight to his chest. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to muffle the tears and whimpers. Mark's family was far from perfect. Sure, he grew up with a mom, a dad, a sister, a cat, a house in the suburbs, and he had been to Disney World. There was more to it than that. Roger didn't know that Mark's dad smacked him around when his grades weren't A's. Roger didn't know that Mark's mom had a weakness for peppermint schnapps. Roger didn't know that Cindy had given birth to four kids, not three. She got pregnant with her first at age fifteen and put it up for adoption. Roger didn't know how many hours Mark cried when Lizzie, their cat, got hit by a car when he was fifteen. Roger didn't know why Mrs. Cohen called the other day.

--

"_Mark, sweetie, it's mom. You need to come home tomorrow; we need to have a serious talk. It's important. Call when you get this. I love you, dear. Bye."_

Mark thought back to yesterday. It was one of the worst days in his life. It ranked right up there with the day that Maureen dumped him. He hugged his camera tighter as the unwanted memories flooded his mind.

"_Cindy, Mark," Mrs. Cohen started, sipping something from a small flask. Her voice was uneasy, an unusual shakiness evident. "Your father and I have something to tell you. It will probably be a shock, but we think it's for the best."_

"_Wait, where is dad?" Mark cut in._

"_He's upstairs," she replied, "packing."_

"_Are you guys moving or something?" Cindy asked._

"_No, kids," Mrs. Cohen wiped away a tear. Mark knew this was bad. "We've decided to… to get a divorce."_

"_What?" Cindy and Mark cried unanimously._

"_But you've been married for almost forty years," Mark was appalled. "I thought you guys were in…"_

"_You mean you never saw it coming?" Cindy looked at her brother. "It was just a matter of time."_

"_She's right, Marky," Mrs. Cohen nodded. "We've talked about it years ago, but we wanted to wait until you two were older. You grew up with us together, now it doesn't really matter for the two of you."_

"_This can't be happening," Mark muttered, taking off his glasses and pinching his nose. His eyes squinted as a headache came on._

"_I'm sorry kids," the tears fell a little harder, "but it's for the best."_

"_For the best? How is divorce for the best?"_

"_Mark, I can't speak for your father, but you know I'll always love you," Mrs. Cohen touched her son's knee. "Whether I'm living here or elsewhere, you know that I'll always call you and make sure you're eating. We'll even celebrate Hanukkah together, like we talked about. Just us and Cindy's family."_

_Mark smiled. He missed celebrating Hanukkah with his family like he did when he was little._

"_Look who decided to show his face in Scarsdale," Mr. Cohen appeared at the foot of the stairs, his suitcase making a thud as it hit the floor. "Didn't think the little queer would ever come back."_

"_Dad, just because I don't have a girlfriend doesn't mean I'm gay," Mark said defensively._

_Mrs. Cohen decided to stick up for her son, raising her voice at her soon to be ex-husband. The vocals escaladed into a shouting match and almost something physical._

"_No…" Mark just closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but Scarsdale._

--

"Mark," Roger knocked on the door, "you in here?"

"Yeah," he whimpered.

Roger pushed the door opened and saw Mark. "Listen about earlier, I'm… are you crying?"

Mark whimpered again in reply.

"What's wrong?" Roger sat on the edge of bed, touching Mark's shoulder. "What did your mom call about?"

Mark sat up, releasing his camera to wipe his tears. "They're getting a divorce."

Roger's eyes widened. Mark's perfect parents getting a divorce? No way. "Really? I'm sorry, man, I had no idea."

"Me neither," Mark replied. "It was all too obvious too. I was just too blind to see it."

Roger nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry I was such a dick earlier, I didn't know."

"I'm sorry too," Mark said. "You were right. I am lucky; I grew up with my parents. You didn't get that. And I guess I took that for granted."

"No, don't be sorry. It hurts no matter when it happens. I guess I just assumed your life was perfect growing up. Or perfect compared to where I come from."

"It hurts."

"I never wanted that for myself," Roger stated. "I always wanted to be a big rock star with a pretty wife and some kids. I just got lost along the way. Now with Mimi how she is and my days numbered, I guess it'll never happen."

"Don't sell yourself short," Mark said. "You can still have it all."

Roger looked up, a confused haze over his eyes.

"I think you know what you have to do."

Roger nodded. He knew.

--

**A/N:**The third and final chapterwill be up probably Thursday or Friday. I'm seeing Wicked tomorrow so I won't be home all day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rent.

**Chapter 3**

Roger wandered down to Mimi's loft later that night. He softly crept through the door, silently making his way to her bedroom. He stood at the door, gazing at Mimi's crying figure in a pile on the bed. "Mimi?"

She looked up, mascara running races against tears down her face. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you," Roger sat beside her. "It's… it's important."

She sat up. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry that I lashed out on you earlier," he began. "I don't think you know how worried I get about you. How scared I am that you won't come home from work or that when you aren't lying with me at night, you're going to wake up in someone else's arms. Or not at all. I was doing some thinking…"

"That's a change."

"Don't," Roger's voice went from soft to cold. "Just listen."

"I'm sorry," she took his hand. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking," he repeated, "about how shitty my childhood was and how fucked up my family was and how I don't want that for myself. Then I thought about you and how much I… how much I love you." He looked her in the eyes. "I've always wanted to be a rock star with a pretty wife and a kid. I had the rock star part years ago. Now I want the pretty wife."

"The kid comes along with the pretty wife," Mimi replied, smiling a little.

"What?" Roger lifted her chin with his hand.

"I was scared, Roger," Mimi cried again. "That's why I started using again. I wanted to make it go away and I thought that once would do it, but it didn't. Now I wish I didn't. Because I want it."

"Want what? You wanted to make me…"

She shook her head. Taking his hand in her own, she placed it on her stomach. "Your soon to be pretty wife is having your kid too."

"I promise I won't go to jail," Roger said. "I want you to love our kid. I don't want to be my parents, if you can call them that. I don't want to get a divorce either, like Mark's parents. Promise me we won't be broken. I don't want to be like every family I've ever known."

"All we need is love, baby," Mimi smiled, cuddling into his chest, "and at this point, love is all we have."

Roger pulled her close, pushing his lips to her forehead. He knew she was right. He knew they had something special from the start. They had a future, a family, and an unbroken promise. In the bigger picture, all of that required love. It was then that Roger realized that the only thing he had ever wanted – needed – was the only thing he had.

_Fin _


End file.
